


Without a Foundation

by Starship21ZedNA9



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief, kind of onesided macdennis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 21:11:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16940805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starship21ZedNA9/pseuds/Starship21ZedNA9
Summary: Charlie dies.  No, really.  That's it.  That's the plot.





	Without a Foundation

Charlie had been dead nearly two days and Dennis was on his fifth attempt at writing a eulogy. The words weren't coming out. Not like they should be. Any stray word that entered his mind felt wrong. Was wrong. Was disconnected from anything that Charlie was. He couldn't write what he felt because he didn't really feel it. Charlie was dead. It was a fact that was floating on the outer edges of himself and refused to settle beneath his skin. So he just stared in a fog at the blank pad of paper in front of him. Occasionally, he'd get a sentence or two out before scribbling over it and shredding the sheet. He shifted slightly on the stool and tapped the edge of the bar with his pen. He needed a drink. He stared at the shelves full of booze in front of him but his legs wouldn't work. He just sat, eyes darting from the paper to the bottles.

Paddy's Pub was closed. Had been since they had gotten back from the hospital and shut themselves inside. Frank had disappeared somewhere almost immediately. Every now and then, they would hear the faint sounds of shattering glass and pained, raging screams. Dennis guessed he was up in Charlie's bad room. Mac was slumped over in a booth. The table was covered in empty beer bottles. Dee sat across from him. They weren't speaking to each other. Just passing drinks back and forth. Dennis kept his back to them.

He ripped off another yellow sheet from the pad. This one didn't even have a single letter written on it. He started tearing it up anyway. 

"Somebody get me a beer," his voice was raspy with disuse. Mac and Dee remained where they were.

"You're closer. Just get it yourself," that was Dee with none of her usual fight.

"Why don't you just give it a rest, man. We can deal with the eulogy later. There's other shit we need to do," Mac's voice was barely above a whisper.

Dennis swung around in his seat. "Well, I don't see you bitches doing anything. I guess I gotta call the funeral home and whatever else you do when this happens."

"I'll do the eulogy, dude. It should be me anyway. I was his best friend," Mac took another swig of beer.

"First of all, that's debatable. Second of all, absolutely goddamn not. You are not getting up there. The last thing we need is you doing another goddamn rain dance."

Mac's eyes briefly flashed hurt and then grew narrow and dark. "What did you just say?"

Dennis wouldn't be intimidated. He met Mac's fury with a steely gaze, "you heard me."

Mac wrapped his hand around the neck of an empty bottle and hurled it at Dennis. It barely missed his head and crashed into the shelves behind him.

"Fuck you!" Mac tore himself out of the booth and stormed out of the bar. The door slammed behind him.

Dennis shrugged at Dee. "Good riddance. I can't have him screwing up this funeral anyway."

"Screwing up the funeral? What the hell are you talking about? Nobody at Charlie's funeral is gonna give a shit if Mac speaks, dances, or starts jerking off on the coffin. It's just gonna be us and his mom. That's it."

"It's the principle of the thing, Dee! There is a way that things are done. And they do not include Mac making a goddamn asshole of himself."

Dee threw up her hands and stumbled to her feet. She walked unsteadily toward him until she was inches away from his face. Dennis could smell the beer on her breath as she whispered in his ear, "you're the asshole."

She backed away, looking satisfied with her statement and headed toward the door.

"What are you gonna follow him?"

"Shit, no! I'm going home. I don't want to see any of you bitches right now, okay?" With that, she was gone. Dennis pretended not to hear her stumble and trip outside. 

"It's fine," he muttered. "They were just distracting me and dragging this whole process down anyway. Goddamn them. We can't all just sit around and, and, and drink. As much as we want to. Right now. Okay? Okay. Some of us have to deal with all this shit and write stupid, fucking speeches about our asshole friends who get themselves killed. Goddamn it, Charlie!"

Dennis climbed over the bar and grabbed for the biggest bottle he could find. "Yeah, fuck you, buddy. I am drinking now." 

He chugged as fast as he could and pushed images of Charlie out of his mind. The first time he ever saw him. Small, and filthy, and feral behind Mac as Dennis had bought drugs off him. Charlie's whoop of excitement when they bought Paddy's. The look on his face when he realized Frank might be his father. Getting trashed together with Chase Utley and Ryan Howard. A million little moments. And the last one. Charlie, laid out on a slab, under a crisp white sheet. Face gray and lips blue. Silver spray paint stuck to his mouth. Drying vomit still running down his chin. Dennis was the only one to see him. The others had chickened out at the last minute. Even Frank, that bastard. He looked like a goddamn mess. Now the whole hospital knew that he was associated with the dead guy with puke all over his face. Dennis had used the corner of the sheet to wipe the vomit away. That was better. That was more presentable, he thought. 

"Jesus Christ, Charlie, what the hell did you do." He said it to Charlie, not expecting an answer. The coroner told him anyway. All the drugs and alcohol in his system were finally too much for him. It looked like he passed out on his back and ended up choking on his own vomit. It struck Dennis as both fitting for Charlie and not nearly good enough for him. He felt blessedly numb as he gazed down at his friend. The feeling was sticking with him for now. It was getting him through. Small outburst aside. That was just because Mac, Dee, and Frank weren't cooperating. They weren't doing what had to be done. They were falling apart. It was embarrassing, really.

The bottle was empty. Remnants dribbled down his face and Dennis coughed and let the warmth of it flow through him. The anger had subsided for the moment. What he needed was a change of scenery. He couldn't focus here. He collected his pad and pen and left without turning off the lights.

 

******

 

Dee felt better now that she'd finally showered and brushed her teeth. She was still drunk, but not drunk enough. There was flask full of whiskey under her pillow and that should be enough to knock her out for the next several hours. Sleeping away the time, that was all she wanted right now. She squeezed more water out of her hair, ignoring it as it splashed to the bathroom floor.

Trudging to her room, she froze when she saw Frank sitting on the edge of her bed. He was staring at his hands that rested in his lap. He looked disgusting. Dirty, disheveled, and bleeding from more than one place. She didn't want to think about what was jumping from his body to her mattress.

"Jesus Frank, what are you doing here?"

"Hey, Deandra. Yous guys left when I got back downstairs," he still hadn't looked up or even moved.

"Yeah, Dennis and Mac started fighting and I'm just over it. You know you've got a cut. A few actually. But, a big one on your arm."

Sure enough, his left arm was slowly leaking blood. Frank glanced at it like he already knew. He just hadn't attempted to stem the flow or cover it.

"Oh, yeah. I must have fell or something," he mumbled.

"No. You were up in Charlie's bad room, drinking and breaking bottles. And if you're done doing that, why don't you go home. I'm really not in the mood for any of you guys right now."

Dee walked by him and crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to her neck. Frank stubbornly remained seated.

"I know I was never any good as a father."

Dee rolled her eyes. "Nope. Nope. Nope. Not having this conversation. No way."

Frank kept going as if she hadn't said a word. "Not to you or your brother. And not to Charlie. I should have gotten the blood test."

Jesus, Dee hoped he wasn't crying. He sounded like he might have been but Dee wasn't about to look. "Would it have made any difference?"

"To him it would have," Frank sounded so mournful that Dee almost felt sorry for him.

"I can't make things right with him now. But, I can make it right with you and Dennis. I can try harder."

Dee shot up. "Try harder? You never tried at all, you son of a bitch! It doesn't matter if you were Charlie's dad or not. You still treated him better than you ever treated me and Dennis. It is way too late for you to start trying now. I'm a grown woman and I stopped wanting you to be a good dad years ago. I haven't needed you since I was a kid. That goes for Dennis too. We don't need a dad anymore. You were never really ours anyway."

He was crying. Silent tears slid down his dirty face. Dee refused to take the words back. Not after every Christmas he gleefully ruined. Not after every request she ever made of him was thrown in her face. Not when he left her crying or scared or hurt without thinking twice about it. Not after he disappeared for years and only popped back up to instantly bond with Charlie. Charlie. Goddamnit. She didn't want to cry in front of Frank. She'd promised herself she never would again after her Freshman year when she'd been laughed out of the Homecoming dance and spent the duration of the night shivering by the dumpster. And by the time she sobbed out the story to Frank after he picked her up, he and Dennis had only laughed at her.

She laid back down and pulled the blankets over her head. Why wouldn't he just leave? Go cry to Dennis. See if he has better luck there. At last he broke the silence. The desperation in his voice left her torn between anger and pity.

"I can't go back to that apartment without him."

Had he even heard a word she'd said? Or was he too wrapped up in his own pain to hear hers?

"I'm sorry, Deandra. You never think...I never thought I'd have to do this. Lose a kid, you know? You guys, all three of you, no, all four of you, were always supposed to still be here after I died. Always."

Goddamn him. She reached over to grab the other, frequently unused, pillow, and tossed it at him.

"You can't sleep in my bed again. Ever. But, you can stay somewhere here. The couch or the floor or wherever. You may not have ever been our dad, but you're still, you know, us."

Dee felt the pressure on the bed ease up. Frank was standing. But, she didn't hear any footsteps. She cautiously lifted the covers to peer around the room. She didn't see Frank. She crawled over to the edge. The old man was asleep below the foot of her bed. He was covered with her duvet and curled up around the pillow. Dee sighed and slid back to her own spot on the bed. She grabbed for her flask just as Frank's snores filled the room.

 

******

 

Mac was on the couch when Dennis finally came home. It was well past midnight. Mac had been watching old home videos of him and Charlie since before the sun had set. When he left the bar earlier, he'd been furious. At Dennis. At Charlie. At God. He wanted to rage. He wanted to see Charlie. He walked around in the sewer for a while. He thought it would make him feel close to his friend. He spent most of his time wondering what the hell Charlie ever did down there.

By the time he got home, half of him hoped that Dennis was already there. He was pissed at him but he didn't really want to be alone. He had found the apartment dark and empty, resisted the urge to call Dennis, and dug around in his closet until he found a box of old tapes. He smiled watching their younger selves ride their bikes through a pack of stray cats. Charlie's wild laughter echoed through the walls. It was like a vice around him. Squeezing the air out of the room.

Mac remembered that day. He had waited for Charlie in the smaller boy's kitchen. His mom had forgotten to give him breakfast that morning and Mrs. Kelly had made him some waffles. He had been happily munching away when Charlie ran downstairs, shaking and crying. He pulled Mac along outside just as his uncle Jack appeared in the stairwell, waving to them both. Mac didn't ask questions. Just like Charlie never asked why Mac's mom was never around and where his dad was. Instead, they'd grabbed their bikes and ridden as far away from Charlie's house as they could get. The rode around and dared each other to do crazy stunts until they were giggling and happy again. And they'd never talked about it. Maybe they should have. Maybe he should have asked.

He should have been there to stop him. That much he knew. All he had was the gang. There was nobody else. And Charlie had been there his whole life. Before he'd ever heard the name Reynolds, he had Charlie. His only lifelong constant. And he hadn't been there to stop him. To take that last can of spray paint away from him. To wake him up or turn him over when he started to choke. He hadn't even been able to identify him. His legs turned to jelly at the last second and he'd sent Dennis in instead. It should have been him. Charlie was his responsibility. He should have at least gone in and looked at him.

He looked back up at the screen as his younger self ordered Charlie to try and knock him over. The both of them ended up rolling around in the junkyard. Mac felt tears sting his eyes when the taller boy on screen pinned Charlie down and declared, "see? See how strong I am? This way no one will mess with us because I can totally kick everbody's asses."

"Ugh, goddamnit Charlie," Mac pressed his palms to his eyes. 

He heard the key in the lock and quickly dried his eyes as best he could. Dennis walked in, pad of paper still in his hands. He looked from the TV to Mac and chose not to comment.

"Where the hell have you been, dude?"

Dennis held up the pad, "I think I've finally got something decent here. Also, funerals are crazy expensive so I need to get Frank's credit card before I can make any final arrangements."

Mac shrugged, "I have all his card numbers written down. They're in my nightstand. Just use that in the morning. No one's gonna answer in the middle of the night."

Mac made room for Dennis on the couch. Dennis took the invitation and joined him. Dennis was freezing. He had his arms tightly folded and his eyes firmly glued to the television. Mac could tell the man was trying hard not to shiver.

"Have you been outside?"

"In the park. For a few hours. Six or so." Dennis kept his voice flat and still wouldn't look at him.

"Jesus, dude. You're probably gonna get sick." Mac pulled the blanket from the back of the couch over Dennis' shoulders and wrapped his arm around him. Dennis stayed tense but allowed Mac to pull him toward him.

They sat in silence for a while, staring at the TV. Mac knew it was pointless to ask for an apology. It would only lead to another fight and Mac didn't have any fight in him. He just felt drained. Totally empty. Anyway, he didn't want to drive Dennis away. To his room, or worse, out of the apartment. Back to North Dakota. He tightened his hold on the other man. He wouldn't survive without him. Not a second time and definitely not without Charlie around to have fun with.

His eyes drifted from the TV to Dennis. Dennis was watching the screen but Mac didn't think he was really seeing it. The man wasn't even blinking. He just sat frozen against Mac. Mac tilted his head up so that his forehead rested in Dennis' hair. He breathed in the scent of him and shuddered at how much he smelled like home. Mac needed all the home that he could get.

"Don't go back to-."

"I'm not going anywhere, man."

"I really miss Charlie," he blurted out.

Dennis didn't react to that. All he said was, "I know you do." 

Mac didn't know what else to say. He just held Dennis until they both fell asleep.

 

******

 

Dee pulled at the hem of her dress. She swore when she found a loose thread. It unraveled between her fingers while she tried to get a grip on it to break it free. 

"Shit. My whole dress is falling a part." She reached down with her other hand and forced the black string in two. Dennis was seated at the other end of the bar. He was nursing a scotch and keeping his eye on the glass like it held all the answers.

"You ready for this," Dee went back to her own drink.

Dennis nodded. "Of course. People have funerals every day. It's not a big deal. The most important thing is that you guys keep it together, okay? Don't make a scene."

Dee snorted but didn't respond. Fighting Dennis was the last thing she wanted today. She didn't want today at all. She wanted to skip the whole thing and keep on trying to pretend that it wasn't real. That Charlie was back at his own place or down in the basement, hunting rats. She wished she'd thought to bring a jacket. The bar was cold. Or maybe she was just uncomfortable. She pulled her shoulders closer together. She hoped it wouldn't be this cold at the church.

Dennis' voice caught her ear. "Huh," she asked.

"I said, I love you, Dee."

Dee's first instinct was to laugh. It wasn't often Dennis handed power over to her like this and every single time he did, she took the opportunity to throw his words back in his face. To make him feel some fraction of the pain and humiliation he was always so quick to put her through. She studied him. He wasn't looking at her. Still engrossed in his glass. She could tell by the way his knuckles were turning white that he had quite the grip on it.

She couldn't say she loved him back. Even though she guessed she did. She loved him. And she hated him. But, if she told him that then someday that would come back to bite her in the ass. She wasn't prepared to freely give him that much. He was in a weak moment right now but he'd get out of it eventually and he would always remember if she said it. Dennis didn't forget and he didn't let go. But, she found that she didn't want to kick him now either. He was hunched so far down, if he took another hit right now, he might shrink until he disappeared.

She settled on, "okay. I hear you."

Dennis nodded and relaxed his grip. That seemed to be the right answer. Mac entering saved the twins from needing to say more. He was wearing a suit. That was something. Unfortunately, he was also wearing the duster.

"What the hell is this," asked Dennis.

"The duster, dude. Charlie loved this thing. He would have wanted me to wear it to his funeral."

Finally, Dennis turned to look Mac up and down. "You aren't going to be doing anything except sitting there quietly. I'm gonna be doing all the talking. If anything, I'm wearing the duster. Take it off."

"What? No way. If you wanted it, you should have grabbed it before you left this morning. It's mine today."

"You have done nothing through this whole process! You don't deserve the duster. Take it off!"

Dennis stood up to face Mac. Mac just pulled the duster tightly around himself so Dennis couldn't grab ahold of it. Dennis yanked at the sleeve. Mac slapped his hand away. Dennis saw red and lunged at him. They both fell to the floor.

"Give me the duster!"

Dee watched, bemused, as they wrestled and shouted over each other. Mac had Dennis in a headlock while Dennis scratched at his face.

"You son of a bitch," Mac screamed. "You didn't give a shit about the duster until you saw me wearing it. It's mine! It's always been mine!"

Dennis had managed to wriggle free and was tugging as hard as he could on Mac's right sleeve.

"I do too give a shit about the duster! You're not the only one who cares about the goddamn duster!" 

Dee heard a rip. Both men froze. Sure enough, the duster was torn at the shoulder now. Mac's eyes were wide with shock. Dennis gaped at him. Dee thought better of stepping in now. There was a good chance they were about to murder each other and she'd end up throwing a triple funeral.

"Well, great. Now you ruined it."

"I ruined it? You're the one that started fighting me over it," Mac pulled himself up and began inspecting how bad it was.

"You held on too tight like you do everything and wrecked it!" Dennis stood up too.

Mac's breath was coming out in desperate gasps. Christ, now he was gonna cry. She'd gotten enough of that from Frank over the last few days. Mac slipped off the duster and gingerly cradled it in his arms. His fingers ran over the rip. His tears began falling onto the torn coat.

"It's not my fault. It's not! It's yours! And you don't even care! You don't even...feel it. Goddamnit, Dennis, why won't you just feel it?"

"I don't know!"

"What the hell is going on here," Frank suddenly appeared from the office. "What the hell did you do to the duster?"

Mac couldn't talk anymore. He kept his mouth closed and tried to supress the sobs, tried to hold it all back. But, the tremble in his arms and the way he held the duster couldn't fool anyone.

Dee took pity on him, "these two idiots were fighting over who got to wear the stupid coat and they ripped it."

Frank looked at the three of them. "Well, nobody's wearing it. We're burying it with Charlie."

"What?" Dennis jumped. "No way!"

Frank held his ground. "Yeah! It's the least yous guys can do for him now. Look at you. Charlie's dead and you're fighting about who gets to look the coolest at the funeral?"

"Charlie's dead! He doesn't care if he's buried with the duster or not!" Dennis was kind of twitching now. The vein in his forehead was popping out.

"I care!"

"Oh, so now you want to be his dad, is that it? That's not gonna do a goddamn thing for him now you piece of shit!"

"I'll do it for him," Mac piped up. His voice was wavering badly. "You're right, Dennis. I've just been drinking and crying and not doing anything. I'll give Charlie the duster."

He walked up to Frank and held it out. Frank accepted it without a word. Mac let his hand linger over the torn garment before turning toward the door. He held it open and looked at the other three expectantly.

"Yeah, we're gonna be late." Dennis suddenly seemed calm as he exited Paddy's. Frank followed Dennis to the Range Rover. Dee was last and she was a little surprised that Mac kept the door open for her. She was even more surprised when she felts his hand on the small of her back.

 

******

 

The four of them sat in the front. Mrs. Kelly was in the second row with her brother and Mrs. Mac. Frank was on the end next to Dee. He gripped her knee, looking for support anywhere he could get it. Dee accepted the touch with no comment. She had her head on Dennis' shoulder. He, too, didn't fight the contact. Mac was on the other side of Dennis but they weren't touching. They were both stiff and making sure they wouldn't accidentally brush against one another. Mac had his arms folded and his eyes on the closed casket. It was a simple thing. Or it would be if Mrs. Kelly hadn't insisted on draping it with flowers. Mac was certain Charlie wouldn't want that. He was certain Charlie wouldn't want any of this. Charlie probably wanted to be tossed in the dumpster behind Paddy's. Or walled inside the basement. Mac could almost remember Charlie talking about it once, but he'd been to drunk to remember.

Dennis checked his watch and then stood up. He brushed away invisible wrinkles on his suit before approaching the pulpit. He looked at Frank and then at Dee. He avoided Mac's gaze.

He pulled out a sheet of paper from his jacket. His hands were perfectly steady as he began to read.

"So, uh, thank you all for coming. It's um, it's a great day for a funeral! Am I right? Okay. I, uh, I've known Charlie since we were classmates in high school together. We later transitioned to business partners when we bought Paddy's Pub with our friend, Mac. Uh, he's here today. Anyway, I like to think that I taught Charlie a lot, actually, during our friendship. He often displayed the potential to make me very proud. I believe he would have gotten there at some point, if he hadn't, um, died. 

Charlie had a unique approach to work and life. He was not afraid to get his hands dirty. Or any other part of him. He was actually kind of gross. He was very gross, okay? He was disgusting. And illiterate. And insane. And fascinating. And manipulative. He definitely picked that up from me. He was funny and, just, he was...gone. He's gone. I, oh, shit. I think I'm starting to feel it. He's really dead. I saw him. He looked horrible. Jesus, there's rats in the bar! Who's gonna...goddamnit!"

Then Mac was there, at his side. He laid a hand on Dennis' arm and pulled him to him. Dennis fell into the embrace and gripped him back as tight as he could. Mac wrapped his arms around Dennis and Dennis grabbed hold of Mac's jacket and buried his face in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to get his breathing under control before he did something stupid, like cry. Mac didn't say anything. He just held him.

Eventually, Frank walked by them and placed the duster on top of the coffin. He turned and joined Mac and Dennis in their embrace. Dee stepped up last. She hesitated for a moment before Mac and Frank parted to make room for her. She walked into their waiting arms and pulled the two as close as she could. Dennis still had his face pressed into Mac's jacket.

"I want to go back to the bar now," Dennis' voice was thick and rough.

Mac shook his head, "we gotta finish this first. It's almost over. I got you. I got you guys."

 

******

 

They made it through the day. None of them could remember much of how they made it, but they did. All they could say was that Mac had somehow corralled them from the funeral home to the cemetery. He'd kept his arms around the twins as Charlie's coffin was lowered into the ground. At one point, Frank had had to stop Bonnie from jumping in after it. Mac forced himself to watch it all. The coffin descend. Fresh dirt falling on top of it. He watched until Charlie was gone. At last the priest stopped talking. They were released and retreated back to the bar.

Mac got everyone a beer but nobody drank. They just sat in miserable silence, staring at their untouched bottles.

"You know, I had about three more pages in that eulogy."

"I think what you said was perfect," Mac clapped him on the shoulder.

"Of course it was. But, if you had just given me a moment, I would have gotten it out."

"Dennis. Relax. It's over. It's done." Dee took his hand in her own. "I just want to say that me and Charlie, sometimes, we made a pretty good team." 

"Yeah, sometimes," Dennis conceded, squeezing her hand back.

"Even so," Dee continued, "I'm pissed at him for all this."

"Are you pissed? Me too. I mean, we lost the duster over this. And this last week has been awful. Truly terrible. And it's all his fault."

Mac sighed, "I'm actually glad you guys said that because I am super pissed at Charlie right now. This whole thing has me all fucked up. Like, this is the worst thing he's ever done to us."

"Definitely. I had plans this week. That's ruined. We went through all this trouble to bury the kid and what do we get for it?"

"Not a goddamn thing!" Dee was shouting now. "I can't believe how selfish he was. Did he even stop to think about the rest of us?"

"He never did," Mac's eyes were flooding again. "That son of a bitch. It's like, it's like there's this empty space now. Like, right beside me all the time and he should be there. And I hate him for it."

The twins began talking over each other to agree with Mac. Frank watched them all spur each other's anger on. He watched Mac's face go red as he rubbed his eyes dry. He watched the veins in Dennis' neck bulge. Dee's squawking reached ultrasonic levels. He felt no rage. All he felt was lost and guilty. He thought about slipping out but he still couldn't bring himself to go back to his place.

"He was my buddy." They all turned toward Frank. He was looking down again. Like he was afraid the admission would cost him something. "And maybe my son but he was my buddy and that's all that matters."

The others stilled. "He was our foundation and now what do we got," he finished.

Dennis put his hands on Mac and Dee's shoulders. "We still got each other. And Charlie, you know, Charlie will always be us. Always part of the gang."

"I'm getting rid of the apartment. Yous guys can come over and see if there's anything you want first. Otherwise, I'm gonna burn the whole place to the ground."

"Okay. You're already staying with me anyway. You might as well keep staying," Dee shrugged.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I will."

Dennis looked at Mac. Mac stared back at him with pleading eyes. This sucked. It all sucked. He didn't want to have Mac moping around forever. He wanted to see some fight back in his sister. He couldn't have Frank fading away from them and taking his money with him. He wanted Charlie to walk through the door. He wanted things to be normal again. They never would be but he could try to get them close.

"So...you guys wanna all come back to our place, cuddle up, and sing a song?"

Mac smiled. It was small but it was genuine. The first genuine one he'd seen since Dennis had confirmed for them that Charlie was gone. Dee looked surprised. Frank eyed him warily. 

Mac spoke for him, "Charlie would have loved to."

Frank stood up. "Let's go. I'll drive."

Dennis grinned. "Remember your harmonies. Motownphilly's back again."


End file.
